Dawn of the Aspects: Part I

by Richard A. Knaak

  Coros exhaled, and what appeared to be a web of smoke enveloped Malygos. The icy-blue male fought for breath as the smoke sealed off his nostrils and mouth.

  Despite his wounds, the first of Coros’s companions reentered the struggle. With an eager expression, the proto-dragon opened wide as he sought Malygos’s throat.

  Thunder roiled . . . or rather a sound like thunder. Malygos’s wounded attacker dropped as if hit by a thousand dwarven hammers.

  A hearty laugh followed the jarring sound. Kalec saw a gray blur cross Malygos’s path, then collide with Coros.

  “You want a fight? Fight me!” cried Neltharion as he grappled with Malygos’s rival.

  This was a foe that Coros could not have counted on, but he did not back down. He opened wide . . . and Neltharion slammed the blue-green’s jaw up, closing the mouth at a critical moment.

  Coros jerked away from his opponent. The blue-green male clawed at his mouth, ripping away scale and skin until he managed to open it again. Neltharion’s act had managed to turn the other proto-dragon’s breath weapon against him in a manner that both Malygos and Kalec admired.

  However, the gray’s amusement at his success left him open to the third of the attackers. The remaining blue-green landed atop Neltharion, wrapping his hind paws around the gray’s throat. At the same time, he sought to bite through one of Neltharion’s wings.

  But in the next second the gray’s foe was torn free of his prey by Malygos, who had finally had the opportunity to recover. Malygos ripped at the other proto-dragon’s wings and neck, scoring two strong strikes. Blood splattered his muzzle as he tore into his target.

  A wildly flapping wing hit Malygos hard in the face. It startled him enough to make him loosen his grip. His adversary used that moment to pull free. Rather than turn to fight, the wounded leviathan retreated as swiftly as he could.

  Another of the attackers soared past Malygos. Only belatedly did Kalec and his host note that fleeing figure as Coros. Of the final member of the treacherous trio, there was no sign.

  “Too short! Cowards! Come! Fight again!” Neltharion roared after the two diminishing figures.

  Despite their clear victory, Malygos radiated no interest in wreaking further damage on his old rival. He watched silently as the gray continued to berate the losers until they were out of sight.

  Finally losing interest, Neltharion spun to face Malygos. “You fight good! Not as good as Galakrond, not as good as me, but good!”

  Malygos nodded. “You fight very good. Malygos thanks you.”

  The attempt at gratitude received a hearty laugh. “No! Thank you! It was a good fight!”

  Malygos did not shrink from a battle but, unlike Neltharion, did not savor it. Within, Kalec remained torn between being relieved that Neltharion had come to their aid and feeling anxious that the future Deathwing hovered before them.

  “A good fight, yes,” the icy-blue proto-dragon finally agreed.

  “We are brothers in blood,” Neltharion continued, shifting closer. “Both smarter than the others, too!”

  The other proto-dragon did not disagree. For all his bluster, Neltharion was clever. Malygos’s interest turned to another astonishing subject stirred up by a chance mention from the gray. “Galakrond. He never hunts here. Why now? You know?”

  “Ha! Galakrond hunts where Galakrond wishes!” Yet, after saying that, Neltharion paused. After visible consideration, he added, “More food. Yes, more food here.”

  “More food,” Malygos agreed. A horrifying thought occurred to the proto-dragon. “Our food!”

  Neltharion understood immediately. “Our food . . . not good.”

  “No. Not—” Something on one of the nearby hills to Malygos’s right caught the proto-dragon’s attention. Malygos immediately glanced that way, enabling Kalec to also look.

  “They come back?” the gray eagerly asked, referring to Coros and the other two.

  “No.” Malygos remained distracted by whatever he had noticed, but his thoughts remained murky to Kalec. Malygos suddenly arced toward those hills, a curious Neltharion accompanying him. They arrived but scant seconds later, whereupon Malygos began to survey the vicinity.

  “Nothing here,” Neltharion concluded long before his companion was satisfied. “No enemy to fight. Shame.”

  “No enemy,” Malygos reluctantly agreed. “I—”

  Again, the future Aspect noticed something at the edge of his vision. This time, he reacted even more quickly.

  “Something?” the gray asked with rising interest.

  Malygos squinted. Kalec saw nothing through his host, but felt Malygos tense as if he did.

  So powerful a sensitivity . . .

  The words were not Kalec’s. Nor were they Malygos’s thoughts.

  Despite being well aware by now that he had no true voice, Kalec could not hold back a gasp of discovery. To him, part of the landscape moved, a ripple little bigger than a tall human. It moved only a short distance to the side and did so slowly, almost as if seeing what would happen. To the eyes of most, it would have been unnoticeable, and Neltharion was evidence of that. He snorted and peered elsewhere while he patiently waited for Malygos to finish.

  Look there! Look there! Kalec demanded fruitlessly, yet it became clear to him that Malygos did not quite see what he did. Malygos finally gave up, turning back to Neltharion—

  In that one instant, Kalec—not his host—saw what watched.

  And, as he did, the world spun madly. Kalec became lost in a black maelstrom. He had nothing upon which to grab hold, either physically or mentally. The blue sank into a dark, endless hole—

  Only to wake up on the floor of his sanctum, his body—his still-contorted, part-dragon, half-elven body—awash in sweat.

  Groaning, Kalec dragged himself toward a nearby wall. As he approached, a small, shimmering fountain of silver water rose from thin air. It directed itself toward the slowly transforming dragon, who opened his stretching muzzle wide and swallowed the cool, refreshing contents. As the magical liquid coursed through him, Kalec’s mind began to reorganize itself.

  His first thought was not about what he had seen in that last moment, but about the true bane of his existence. Managing to rise, the blue dragon returned to the secret place where he had put the artifact.

  Not at all to his surprise, it glowed as he had first noticed in the wastes. The glow faded immediately, but Kalec was not fooled. The artifact was active and had probably been active from the moment that he had sensed its existence.

  Kalec no longer cared for what purpose it had been designed. He wanted nothing more than to either destroy it or cast it far, far away.

  Well aware of the potential for disaster when dealing with any magical object, Kalec chose the latter course. He pictured a place obscure to most and used a spell to send the accursed artifact there.

  An immense wave of relief overcame him. Kalec slumped back, grateful for the peace of the moment.

  Without meaning to, his attention returned to the essence of the visions. Malygos, Alexstrasza, Ysera, and Neltharion. Four of those who would change Azeroth forever as its guiding Aspects. Kalec assumed that somewhere in those visions, a young Nozdormu had also appeared. The analytical part of Kalec wondered what the visions meant; the emotional part wanted nothing to do with them. Each vision burned deeper into the blue’s mind. Kalec feared that if they had progressed, the visions would have eventually stolen his mind.

  He returned to the magical fountain, a creation of his own that now proved highly beneficial. At last satiated, Kalec forced the visions from his thoughts. He had more important, more immediate, concerns—

  A thing of horror rose before him, a cadaverous dragon with sunken white eyes and shriveled flesh. Rotting tongue dangling to the side, it lunged for Kalec—

  And vanished.

  Kalec shivered. His heart beat wi
ldly. The stench of decay still lingered in his nostrils, even though it slowly dawned on him that what he had seen had not actually stood before him but rather had been a product of his imagination. It took much to unnerve one of his kind even for a moment, but this horrific sight had certainly done so. Kalec could still not shake the sense that he had smelled the apparition, although that was impossible. . . .

  As Kalec’s calm returned, his first thought involved the artifact, but it was hundreds and hundreds of miles away. Kalec could not believe that it could affect him from so far. Still, the more he recalled glimpses of the macabre illusion, the more details that hinted of the artifact’s connection came to light. This had been no dragon, but a proto-dragon whose size had been shaped by Kalec’s own mind . . . and the blue had not even thought about proto-dragons until finding the accursed thing under Galakrond’s frozen bones.

  Galakrond . . .

  Voices arose all around Kalec, but he knew immediately that they came from within, not without.

  This thing is dead! This thing cannot fight!

  Kalec roared, his cry echoing through his sanctum. The roar did nothing to drown out the ever-increasing voices. The dragon desperately spun around, his tail crashing against a wall with such force that it cracked the rock.

  “I will not listen! I will not succumb!”

  So many dead . . .

  We cannot fight . . .

  It must be done, no matter the sacrifice.

  The last voice cut through the rest. With it came another manifestation in Kalec’s mind, one so real that yet again he thought it stood before him.

  The hooded, robed figure.

  The phantasm vanished back into the darkness within. Kalec remained utterly still, afraid that if he even moved, the entire madness would begin again. When it did not, he took a long breath and thought hard. He could think of only one recourse.

  He would have to seek out Alexstrasza again.

  • • •

  For most, the task of finding her, the one who had once been the Life-Binder, would have proved daunting. Alexstrasza stayed in no place for very long, perhaps because if she did, she might dwell too long on what had been lost. Kalec understood that she had come to grips with the fact that the dragons as a race were no longer viable, that the last eggs had hatched and from here there would only be fewer and fewer dragons as time and circumstance took their toll.

  Yet, perhaps through some lingering link from their roles as Aspects or simply because he understood her more than he realized, Kalec located her after only a few false trails. He flew low over the forested land, finally transforming to his humanoid form a good distance from his goal. He did the last not because he sought to surprise her, but rather so as not to frighten the inhabitants of the human village he had seen in the distance.

  The giggles of children reached him before he found her. Kalec saw the four youngsters playing among the trees just beyond the village’s boundaries. The game of hide-and-seek seemed to be a fluid one, for the seeker appeared to change from one moment to the next.

  A man’s voice called the children back into the village. There was always the danger of wolves or other threats, although this land appeared fairly peaceful in comparison to many in the changed world. Moreover, considering the two figures now nearby, the children and their village were, for a short time, safe from almost anything.

  “They seem very happy,” Kalec commented.

  A part of the tree to his left separated. The facade of bark faded, revealing a beautiful, fiery-tressed woman dressed in form-fitting gold and crimson armor. She loomed over Kalec and appeared to be from some far more glorious and mysterious elven branch. A regal crimson cloak flowed behind her as she joined him.

  “They are so young,” she murmured, her brilliant red eyes somber. “They have such vitality. I see why Korialstrasz enjoyed their particular kind so much.”

  Kalec briefly bowed his head in memory of perhaps the most legendary of Alexstrasza’s consorts even though his own relationship with Korialstrasz—who had also worked among the younger races as the mage Krasus—had been tempestuous at times, to say the least. They had come to an understanding well before the red male’s death, but Kalec felt some guilt about the past schism whenever Alexstrasza brought up her beloved mate.

  “Humans hold much hope, but they do also hold much threat,” he could not help finally responding. “The Lich King was once human.”

  “And many of those who fought him hardest were human, too.” She returned her gaze to the village. “Was there something you wanted?”

  He suddenly felt so very young, almost as young as the children they had been watching. “I wanted . . . I wanted to ask some things of you when we gathered at Wyrmrest, but the gathering ended so quickly, so abruptly. . . .”

  Alexstrasza looked back. “I am so very sorry. We did not treat you with the respect we should have. The moment just overtook the rest of us. It is not an excuse. We were remiss.”

  “I am aware that you three share something I can barely fathom. I am still honored that I was chosen, even if for a short time.” Kalec exhaled sharply. “Alexstrasza. After the three of you left Wyrmrest, I found an artifact of an unsettling nature. I need your guidance—”

  “ ‘Guidance’?” For the first time, she did not look pleased with his presence. “My advice will avail you little, Kalec. I would think that you, being a blue, would certainly be better at deciphering some artifact’s design and purpose than I. In fact—”

  The children ran into sight again. Although they remained within the confines of the village, their playing was still visible enough to draw Alexstrasza’s attention. She clapped her hands together in delight as a small girl paused in her play to hug what was likely her slightly older brother.

  Kalec started to talk, then noticed how strained her smile actually was. He envisioned all the lost lives, especially those young like these children, and how they had affected the former Aspect inside. Alexstrasza herself had suffered more than most. Not only had all her eggs been destroyed by Korialstrasz—in the act sacrificing himself—to prevent their corruption into monstrous twilight dragons, and her ability to lay more had been forever taken away, but in addition to all that she lived with the knowledge that the other dragonflights had also suffered so. She might have accepted her loss of power, but not this loss of her kind’s future. After all, she had been the Life-Binder.

  Stepping back, Kalec left Alexstrasza to her viewing. He could not bring himself to pursue matters with her. In silence, he strode deeper into the forest, waiting only until he was far enough not to frighten the humans before transforming into his true form and flying off.

  Twice now, his hopes of understanding and guidance from one of the elder dragons had ended in futility. Alexstrasza had even intentionally pulled away from him when he had mentioned the mysterious find. True, as a blue he was still more in tune with all facets of magic, but her experience might have proven invaluable.

  She—they—have withdrawn from the world, he realized. They have accepted their loss of power, as have I, but now they no longer see themselves as part of Azeroth’s future. . . . Kalec could only imagine how Alexstrasza and the others, with so many millennia of burdens upon them, felt—

  Dead! It is dead! It should not fight!

  Another! Beware! Another—

  Intense vertigo once again overtook Kalec. The blue dragon tumbled forward, dropping hard as he did. He crashed into several treetops before being able to right himself.

  The voices receded. Kalec, exhausted by the struggle, landed hard, then blacked out.

  He awoke what seemed barely a few seconds later. The voices had completely disappeared and no visions assailed him. Kalec rose gratefully, peering around as he tried to regain his bearings.

  The dragon’s gleaming eyes widened in shock. He was no longer near the region where he had left Alexstrasz
a. The trees around him were more sparsely spread and a deep, twisting canyon stretched for miles to the north. This nameless location was far from any civilized area, either Alliance or Horde. Very likely few knew it to any degree, but of those few, Kalec suspected that he knew this region most of all.

  Some force had transported Kalec far across Azeroth . . . and the blue dragon had to look no further than the accursed artifact, which suddenly lay only a few yards before him, once more ominously aglow.

  FIVE

  GALAKROND

  The blue dragon exhaled furiously at the artifact, enveloping it in bitter frost. He brought down one heavy paw on the now-glistening relic. Where good steel—turned brittle by the magical chill—would have easily shattered, Kalec’s odd nemesis retained every aspect of its essence, leaving the dragon with a very pained appendage.

  “You will not be my master!” the blue roared, not caring if anyone heard the echo of his voice. “Curse someone else, you fiendish toy!”

  The octagonal relic glowed brighter yet. Expecting the worst, Kalec immediately pulled back.

  Nothing happened. Kalec ran a paw over the piece, but still the artifact did nothing. Even then, the blue could not help feeling that with each passing second the mysterious object insinuated itself deeper and deeper into not only the dragon’s mind, but also any soul one of his kind might have.

  Seizing up the relic, Kalec prepared to throw it deep into the valley. However, as he raised his arm, the limb ached terribly. Indeed, only now did the blue feel the stress and strain all over his body. Kalec felt as if he had flown halfway around the world—

  Flown . . .

  Testing his wings, Kalec found that they, too, moved with pain. The leviathan’s anger kindled anew. It had been his own magic and muscle that had dragged him all the way to this land. He could only imagine how he had made the journey. Had he flown unconscious all that time?

  It does not matter! Kalec forcefully reminded himself. All that matters is to free myself from its foulness. . . .

  But how he could do that remained a question unanswerable. Rather than cast the artifact away again, Kalec pressed it tight to his chest, then leapt into the air.